I spent the majority of yesterday tearing my house apart in search of the Moo Cup. What’s the Moo Cup, you ask? It’s my little’s milk cup, and it’s got a cute black and white cow pattern all over it, earning itself the adorable ‘Moo Cup’ name. Well, as I went to reach for his Moo Cup yesterday morning, I realized it was missing. THE HORROR. I distinctly remember handing it over to him the day prior as he crunched on oat cereal o’s in his teepee.

I scrambled. Searching all the typical places. Followed by the not so typical places. Every toy box, in every cabinet, under every pillow cushion. It was gone.

My little was totally fine enjoying his milk from another non Moo Cup BUT I was preparing myself for what was to ensue. I was either going to start smelling it when it was gross and moldy OR my little was going to find it before I did and attempt to drink out of it.

BARF.

I wasn’t having scenario number two. Time to find this thing.

I even resorted to asking him, my one and a half year old, if he remembered where he left his Moo Cup. When his eyes lit up and he ran out of the room with determination in his step. I thought to myself, “Oh my gosh! He knows! He knows where it is!” He returned with the most proud look on his face and handed over a miniature cow from his Little People Farm.

I melted. Super proud that he understood that I was looking for something MOO related.

By the evening, I gave up. “That’s it,” I thought to myself, “he’s going to find it before I do.”